


Song of Deborah and Yael

by chava_backup_plan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Asian Character(s), Autistic Character(s), Autistic Luna Lovegood, BIPOC Character(s), Bisexual Character, Black Character(s), Disabled Character(s), Disabled Neville Longbottom, F/F, F/M, Gay Character, Historical Fantasy, Historical References, Jewish Character(s), Jewish Luna Lovegood, Lesbian Character, M/M, Magic, Magic but not like canon, Neurodivergent Character(s), Nonbinary Character, Other, Past Character Death, Queer Character, Queer Themes, Romani Character, SWANA Character(s), Slow Burn, Sámi Character, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29957676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chava_backup_plan/pseuds/chava_backup_plan
Summary: Ginny Weasley is a pirate captain who left home 10 years ago after a terrible tragedy furthered the divide she felt from her family and home. She has a crew she loves, a ship she can take anywhere in the world, and endless desire for adventure and challenge.That is, until a big heist goes awry and she meets someone from her past she never thought she would see again. They have to learn to get along aboard while also immersing themselves in a world of magic and fantasy they didn't know was just past them all this time. Can Ginny set out on this quest set out for her, understand her feelings for Luna, and mend the bonds with the family and country she left behind?
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/Alicia Spinnet, Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Kudos: 3





	Song of Deborah and Yael

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, screw JKR. From a bisexual trans Jew who doesn't let bigotry slide, she is awful and I vow to engage critically with her canonical characters and do my best to do something better with them that truly honors and loves all the wonderful Black, Indigenous, POC, Jewish, Muslim, trans, queer, disabled, neurodivergent, and other marginalized people who make this fandom what it is and without whom the world we imagine is grossly incomplete. This story will feature characters rewritten to fit both head canons I have had for a long time, as well as to expand their characters and make them more inclusive of different people. If you belong to any culture or group that is represented in my fic and ever had thoughts, criticisms, or ideas you are comfortable sharing with me, please don't hesitate to comment or message me. Also, if you don't vibe with the characters being queer, trans, disabled, non-white, etc., this fic and my space aren't for you. 
> 
> Linny has been a comfort ship for me for a long time, and I always feel like I'm missing the long multi-chapter fics about them and their relationship other ships tend to get. I also watched the early 2000s animated film Sinbad for the first time at the age of 21 over the winter break and got a pirate romance historical fantasy idea stuck in my head. I am relatively new to creative writing and would greatly appreciate any comments and thoughts. I hope you enjoy! I am a busy college student with other things going on so I will try to update as regularly as I can, but this is a for fun project for me. I still don't know exactly how many chapters there will be but I am excited about this and hopeful for it. Please enjoy! 
> 
> Special thanks to Moony and Kellie for helping me edit this first chapter, as well as to my other friends in fandom, both that I have made online and offline. I wouldn't have the confidence to post this without your support and camaraderie.

The _Godric_ was gliding at an easy pace—perhaps seven knots—following a gentle-enough westward breeze along the inky Mediterranean. They were now just under a five days’ journey out from Constantinople, where they had spent a quiet week recuperating from many restless months moving about the Arabian Sea and Gulf of Aden, then back around southern Africa. Constantinople had been out of their sights for long enough that they were able to dock and trade some of their more valuable collection pieces, as Ginny liked to think of them, without garnering too much attention to themselves.

Of course, there was the collection for sale and the collection for keeps, but as long as they were careful about who knew what outside of the crew, it wasn’t too hard to keep a low-enough profile to get what they could, restock, and move on. All had enjoyed the chance to eat some fresh fruits and vegetables, as well as meat that hadn’t been packed in salt for months. Neville in particular hadn’t been able to help himself anytime they had passed heaping baskets of the invitingly-floral pomegranates.

Ginny rested her elbows on the starboard elbow, gazing into the deep obsidian water, the already salty and stiffened black wool of her coat draped on the wood railing next to her. It was cool, but not cold, a crisp night. She was musing over the logs she had been painstakingly translating with Cedric, the soft brown leather and crisp pages safely trapped in the desk drawer in her quarters.

If the record-keeping skills of Adnan-oğlu Adalet Baran (and Cedric’s knowledge of written Arabic) were to be trusted, they were in for a big opportunity the following day if they kept their course set for Venice. As far as they could tell, there was some very important and very valuable cargo being inspected by some merchants, including some things Adalet wouldn’t even write down in great detail, only referred to in what Cedric hesitantly described as code words.

At the very least, in addition to “the artifact,” as it was called—the item most shrouded in secrecy and excitement throughout the journal—he had been able to decipher a valuable chalice, some manuscripts, as well as plenty of gold and gems that could fetch them high prices further along their travels. _And_ , Ginny thought to herself with a smirk and arched brow, _if they are having a pass-off or inspection of some sort, all these things won’t be buried away but closer to the docks. Easy enough for us to get what we need and get away._

She took her mind back to the current sensations around her—the glimmering stars above, cool breeze, and the soft, experimental plucks of the oud coming from Michael’s perch by the helm.

Ever the source of musical distraction out on the seas, he was most at home with his fiddle and whatever flutes he managed to carve up himself. Even so, when he could he liked to find instruments along their voyages and learn what he could from whatever locals he bartered with for them. Combined with his natural ear and intuition, he almost always was able to begin playing tunes for them to sing and dance to, in good time.

He had a narrow, long pick in his left hand as he moved his fingers around the eleven strings, leaning his right ear in close to hear whatever patterns and chords he could discern better than anyone else aboard. The Somali merchant he had struck up conversation with and ultimately got the oud from in exchange for his mandolin, had kindly shown him how to use the pick while they were stopped in Soqotra a while ago, but the different scale and sheer number of strings had proven challenging, even for someone with Michael’s talent.

How he knew what fingerings to try with only the slight glow of an oil lamp was beyond Ginny’s comprehension, but she didn’t mind much. It was at times still disarming to be out in the open, ominously quiet ocean with no human sounds to fill the vast alone-ness. Even after ten years away from the Burrow, Ginny couldn’t shake off the newness of such quiet having come from a family of nine.

 _Eight_ , Ginny’s subconscious cruelly supplied. _Yes, eight. I could never forget_.

“Could you play something a bit happier over there, you great tosser? Why keep a lag the likes of you about if not to hear something worthwhile?” she said teasingly over her shoulder.

“Aye aye captain, think I got the hang of a thing or two on this now. Hold on now, not my fault none of you can carry a tune without me, is it?” he snarked back with an easy grin.

Despite their sarcastic tone with another, which might be calls for walking the plank on a ship with a larger crew and a stricter captain. In reality, the _Godric_ with a crew of seven like theirs, led by a person like Ginny Weasley, ran smoothly with easy camaraderie to boot. After all, they had all come to need and depend on one another—and her as a leader.

In any case, Michael knew after enough years by his rough idea of the week it was what song she had really meant by “a bit happier.” He began the opening notes of a song he played at least a few nights every first week of May. In his slightly round and pleasant baritone, he began to sing: _Del en-vy ow kerdhes un myttyn yn mys me,..._

Ginny hummed softly to herself and briefly let her eyes close off from the dark horizon and their starry navigational landscape, letting the breeze lift her fringe. She thought fondly of her twin brothers, Fred and George, who had once sang this song much to her delight in a very comical routine, alternating amongst themselves between the Cornish and English.

She thought hardest of all of Fred, his scathing sarcastic quips in the impossibly well-timed dialogue with George, the extra freckles under his eye, the way his nose pointed a bit more to the left after the fight he and Percy had gotten into that one summer when she was thirteen. She thought of the affectionate way he would pinch her shoulder and wink while singing the verse about the pretty Susan. 

May 2, now ten years ago, she had lost him. Not that she could have ever fathomed losing any of her brothers. And yet, somehow, the loss of him, and the look on George’s face that couldn’t be shaken after, had been both the break and the push. It had sent Ginny on her way to the docks in Exeter. In a way, she had him to thank for her life as a captain at sea, and knowing his charming cynicism (even if she couldn’t always hear the words in his voice anymore), he would not be upset in the least that she was captain of a pirate ship of her own now going on five years.

Well, at the very least, she knew Charlie was dead impressed by her profession.

She opened her eyes again, the now stronger gust of wind having blown her choppy red hair off her forehead completely, humming along a bit louder with the last of Michael’s singing. She blinked a bit as she could now see the sun starting to rise, the glowing orange spreading along the bottom of the horizon.

“Thanks as ever. Now, doesn’t even a lout like you have some real work to be getting to?” she said as she slipped her coat back on.

“Oh, but of course _milady_ ,” he replied in an exaggeratedly posh accent and with a slight bow, “I was just about to do some of that real work. I think it best now I wake the lasses, eh? They got to rest all night long, and that just won’t do.”

He carefully placed the oud back in its case and blew out the flame in the lantern. Despite having gotten not much more rest than his captain, he straightened his back and shoulders and broadly smiled as he closed the latches on the leather case, heading down below deck to wake up the others.

Ginny fondly shook her head at his disappearing wool-capped head and cracked her neck and wiggled her toes in her boots, feeling them press in the indentations inside the toe caps. She had a day left, more or less, and they would be in Venice for a big haul.

It was time to focus, plan, and prepare.

* * *

Ginny faintly heard the crew shuffling and laughing amongst themselves as she bit into another date from the clay jar at her desk, poring over the map of Venice in her atlas for the umpteenth time. She found herself absentmindedly spinning the smooth, pale greenish stone she had found outside a bazaar at the end of their last day before setting sail. She had picked it up because it made her think of Fred, strangely enough.

Something about the color, maybe.

Her lip couldn’t help but pull up to the side, as the friendly (but definitely _early_ morning) squabble coming from outside her quarters took her back to hearing the sounds of a new day beginning in her family home, the Burrow. She could almost hear her mother shouting “Ginevra, if you don’t get down here quick as a flash,” and her father tapping outside the room with a soft “Gin, my love, alright?” in his soft morning drawl.

Ginny blinked it back and shook her head—not the time nor place, in every sense of the phrase. She finished the last of the dates; she had grown quite fond of them, as they had stocked up on many of them when they had stopped over in Soqotra and gotten more replenishing their food stores in Constantinople.

She took a swig of wine, pocketed the stone, and pulled at the knot in the silken embroidered scarf she wore under her hat behind the nape of her neck. As she pounded up the small stairway back to the main deck, she placed the dramatic felt black hat atop her head.

Most of her clothing was functional, simple, with little decoration, but as a captain she felt entitled to a few flashier personal items, which were her sword and wide-brimmed black felt French tricorn, with an impressive white plume and subtle, neat gold top-stitching. 

“Oi, you lot! Get down here wherever you’ve gone, we need to all be clear on the plan. We’ll be in Venice just by nightfall if mine and Kay’s estimations are anything to go by.”

“Aye!”

“Yeah, be right there, just tying off this sail with Alicia!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re heard, captain.”

The chorus of shuffling footsteps and affirmative interjections ended quickly, as all six of her crewmates presented themselves in front of her. Angelina crossed her arms, a great grin on her face and her braids tossed back behind both soldiers.

She stood slightly front and center of “the lasses” as they were sometimes fondly—sometimes exasperatedly—referred to, despite the fact that not one of them was Scottish and they weren’t all even really lasses. She, Alicia, and Kay had been an inseparable trio on various ships and docks across the world, and had their sisterly dynamic all figured out. 

Angelina was certainly the center of the group and had been in the leading role between the three when they agreed to join Ginny’s crew four years prior. The three of them worked like a complex machine, all together in perfect synch, with little additional direction needed. They could toss things to one another with perfect aim from anywhere aboard. Words and ropes flew between them with near-perfect aim; sometimes it felt like they flew in the air with the speed that they ran about the deck and climbed up the masts and ropes, regardless of the weather. 

They all could get rather rowdy at a tavern or pub, and Kay in particular drew the attention of everyone around with their dry humor, athletic build and mesmerizing golden-brown eyes. Angelina and Alicia would be equally the center of attention too, if it weren’t so clear how they weren’t interested like that in anyone but each other. 

Neville shuffled amiably into the circle, one hand casually twiddling with his jacket collar. He had a slightly sad look in his eye, despite the smile on his round face. Ginny thoughtfully gave him a small grin of sympathy—she knew he was missing being on solid ground.

Neville was the least comfortable of the relatively sea-faring bunch; like many sailors he hadn’t really wanted a life spent almost entirely on a ship, certainly not a pirate’s one at that. But, like many sailors, he didn’t quite have the choice to work out a life at home. Leaving green and sweetly-perfumed trees and the wealth of his beloved plants growing from the earth behind still left him a bit mournful, a feeling most of the others had either forgotten or learned how to stuff down and button up to a place that needn’t be explored.

Considering the fact that they were new and still feeling the pains of finally leaving a family that never really was theirs, all were kind enough in taking the time to help him learn the ropes. Though, it was hard to be frustrated with someone who shined like Neville at making magic in the galley despite even the limitations of their stores when they were at sea for months.

Michael came bounding along, looking entirely too chipper for someone who couldn’t have slept much more than Ginny. He gave Neville a rather enthusiastic slap on the back, causing them to lean more heavily into their cane for a moment, grinning and shaking his head lightly nonetheless. 

Michael was the resident musician, astronomer, story teller, comic and expert knot-tyer. He liked chatting with people they met along their travels, with Cedric’s help translating, and learning whatever new bits and bobs he could, whether they were useful to running the ship or not. As always, he had a thin strip of patterned red cloth carefully tied around his wrist, a memory of home always attached to his person. 

He had explained once to Ginny, early on after they met on the first ship Ginny ever worked on, that it had been a part of the only thing he had found when his family had been killed: his mother’s favorite _dikhlo_ , singed around the edges but still as vibrant as when she had worn it. He had cut away the impure parts and kept the rest with him ever since.

Finally, Cedric came up from behind Ginny’s left shoulder. He was disturbingly handsome and kind, a most deadly combination for the people they met at every port and dock who stared at him with eyes wide and shiny like the moon as he graciously waved goodbye from the deck. He was wonderful with languages, though he lacked formal education in languages and linguistics. He just had a knack for picking them up, something that came with the territory of his deep, genuine desire to listen to people long enough to figure it out. 

Reading could be a bit difficult, though he had learned enough doing translation work his whole life at sea. He too had a love for music when he wasn’t too busy operating the ship, but he was a bit more shy with it than Michael. He sometimes on particularly still nights or quiet mornings graced the crew with a _joik_ , or even the recital of a poem he had thought of but never written down in his soft and slightly musical voice.

Ginny was particularly fond of the one he sang when they sailed across smooth waters after a storm, reminiscent of how he would have sang about the wide expanses of freshly fallen snow back home, or maybe the calm, still fjords after a storm where he began his life at sea; it was never exactly the same each time he sang it, but the power in his voice and the way his notes carried over the sea never failed to make her shiver, just a bit.

“I do hope I got the details right from that journal, Gin, terribly sorry otherwise,” he said softly in his rhythmic accent, pushing up the deep blue sleeves of his _gákti_.

Ginny twisted her mouth to the side and nudged his ribs with her elbow.

“Better be right enough, were committed now. Anyhow, listen up you lot, now that we’re all here I’ll explain to you the plan. It is good news that we and good old _Goddie_ weren’t noticed in Constantinople. Means the big ports nearby aren’t likely to be looking out for us, so we stay unnoticed in Venice too. Cedric, actually my love you’re the most charming of all of us, you are going to go in as a prospective buyer, bring Nev along with you. That will be our way in, get a feel of things so we can know what to take and get out fast…”

She went on to detail the plan, and Angelina stiffened a bit at being told the lasses were staying behind, keeping the ship ready to go. “You can’t _really_ not let us in on _any_ of the action! How’re any of you twits going to carry enough loot back anyhow?”

“Now, you know you three are the most efficient getting us set to sail, and we have never pulled such an ambitious heist while docked in a crowded city. I can’t rely on anyone else to be ready and get us going at a moment’s notice without any needless talking. Besides, it will be much too suspicious, three lovely unmarried lasses like yourselves wandering about—can’t have that sort of attention on us if we’re gonna pull it off,” Ginny explained with a wink, pushing one chunk of hair that slipped out of her scarf back into place.

She felt for Angelina’s desire to feel more involved; being the youngest of seven, Ginny was all too familiar with being left behind in the excitement her older brothers got up to.

Still, she felt confident in her plan and knew her crew ultimately did too. Angelina sighed but nodded acquiescingly, Alicia rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. Alicia was always able to soften Angelina’s competitive nature and desire to prove herself. 

“I get it, besides who wants to see those frilly pants those Venetians all wear? Rather hard to laugh about it when they’re right in front of you. Plus, we may be able to pick up a few more things for the galley near the docks if we’re lucky, I _know_ Michael has already had more than his fair share of the fruit we picked up in Constantinople!” Kay supplied, leaning against the mast with their heavy navy blue coat draped over one arm.

“Indeed. I am trusting you to be a good judge of time. Don’t stray far from the ship and be prepared to wait there for us to come back. We are taking some serious stuff, stuff that could get us set for a good long time.” Ginny stressed “good” and “long,” hoping the promise of adventure and fun without pressure would get through to them.

“Alright, I hear you boss. Bring me back something nice I can wear for my girl here then, aye? Maybe then she’ll find me as hot as she did 15 years ago,” Angelina joked.

 _“Tsk!_ Aren’t you terrible? Honestly I’m glad we’re staying behind this time, I can’t bring you anywhere!” exclaimed Alicia, though through smiling cheeks as she jokingly scrunched her deep brown curly hair with one hand.

Ginny shook her head with a grin and slight eye roll, almost biting down the overwhelming love she felt for this little family on the ship. The _Godric_ and each person on it had taken a lot of time and struggle to get there and be a part of Ginny’s life, and in some moments she felt her body fill to the brim with a bubbling sensation of glee, something that pushed out on her skin, against the sea breeze and warm open sun all around her.

It made the dulling pain of the loss of her brother and the distance between her and the family across the continent and English channel from them more manageable, and she felt that lingering tightness in her chest from the night before subside to the background.

She wanted to hold this joy and this gratitude, wanted it for the calm and focus she knew she would need later tonight, for everyone’s sake. She felt the smooth stone in her pocket and rubbed her thumb over it, pushing that feeling out and around into its smooth surface.

Michael jostled her shoulder and flashed his toothy grin at her sideways, and it was clear as her longtime friend he had noticed Ginny seeming to be in her head. He levied his expressive eyebrows and softened his eyes, showing he was silently asking _“You alright there love?”_ through the clamor as the crew bantered amongst themselves.

She gave him a broad and genuine smile, because she was. For the first time in a good long time, Ginny felt the longing for her brothers and the grief of their loss on this worst week of the year and she also felt in control, in her own center.

 _Who knows_ , she thought, _we may just yet be able to pop by Oslo and Wales this year round. Perhaps my mother and I will be able to look one another in the eye as I pass by Exeter_.

The _Godric_ ’s crew by and large had all the family they really needed, or even wanted most of the time, right there in the team. But, occasionally when time, weather and currents permitted, they stopped where they could to see their families at home. Here and there Angelina’s siblings, a cousin or two of Kay’s, an uncle of Cedric’s who worked far enough south in the summers and then took news and gifts from Cedric back up north to his parents in the winters.

Yet, Ginny had still refused to actually go back to Ottery St. Catchpole in all her years.

Her life had changed in so many ways, and who she was had grown out of the mold she had once fit into comfortably enough in her youth back home at the Burrow. Although, in her years away she often had wondered how comfortable she ever really _had_ been.

Still, the three times she had seen any of her family since she walked off to Exeter with naught but a small sack and the clothes on her back, she had found the distance between them even harder to close when they were together. She wasn’t the littlest wee sister, learning how to cook and keep a home; she wasn’t interested in any men in the village her mother could have thought of for her, courting them and seeing if they’d marry her.

Ginny hadn’t even seen her mother or father since leaving, just some of her brothers either in Exeter or other English ports. Well, aside from Charlie, whom she had once met up with in Greece, the only other Weasley sibling daring enough to venture so far from Cornwall. He had said he was planning on going to Romania next.

Her brothers didn’t know her anymore, and she struggled to know them in return. But, still, she missed them and missed _them_ —the closeness they might have had, or could have now if she was perhaps as brave in facing her past as she was facing the trials of a swashbuckling life at sea.

She missed her father and the way his graying red hair framed his wrinkled face when he creased his eyes as he smiled at her. The way he had been soft with her and kind with her, even when she was messy and angry. 

She wanted to miss her mother too, and she did, but that missing was tinged with hurt, a hurt only a mother and daughter who didn't understand each other well, who didn't fit each other's visions quite right, could create. She missed her when she smelled Neville's cooking and when she thought of the woman she was versus the woman her mother wanted her to be.

She missed the way Bill had remembered, genuinely remembered, the passion for adventure his kid sister had always had for as long as she had been able to grasp a world beyond their village, beyond the river’s edge past the burrow, beyond the Cornish countryside.

She missed Charlie, who had seasoned her with outlandish and daring tales of the people and sights and sounds out there in the beyond. He too had been a traveler at heart, and had always had a foot out the door since he could walk. Ginny remembered longing to go after him when he packed a bag and told their parents he was off for Exeter to see where he could go if he offered to work hard enough.

In spite of herself, she found herself missing Percy. It was hard to be angry at him when she knew none of it was really his fault. Even though Ginny had never been perfectly happy staying at home with her family in Ottery St. Catchpole, she never had felt shame about being a Weasley the way she felt he had.

Maybe that was why it was easier to be angry with him, to blame him.

Of course, she missed the twins, an aching miss They were energy, they were joy, they were life. They were magic, and they had taken her along with them to make magic, from finding little creatures in the river, to setting up practical jokes on the rest of the family, and even getting up to mischief in the village square. They had always insisted on including her even when the rest of the family had treated her like the delicate youngest sister, a role the twins knew she didn't fit just so. Fred had known that, always. 

She missed Ron and that lovely girl he’d married between her first two visits back to England, Hermione, and the earnestness with which he said he wished her well and hoped she was happy. He looked so happy to be with her and to go back to the village to start thinking about children, and work, and pleasing mum.

She hoped he was happy too. She had to hope, because the missing wasn’t enough to outweigh her fear of setting foot there again and not being able to go back out to sea fast enough. She didn’t know if she could ever go back again, not when going on and on was the only way she knew now.

“Alright everyone, get to your posts, we’re coming up on some tough currents soon! Be ready to steer us over, starboard there you go Neville that’s the hang of it….”

* * *

“You’ve outdone yourself with this one mate, really good stuff.”

“I’m already ready for seconds, yeah? You want some as well love I’ll fill your bowl while I’m up--”

“Oh absolutely yes please, Neville it really is wonderful I can’t thank you enough as always…”

“Well you all are most welcome just like always, but...you do realize I have made this before, right? Like, several times?” Neville supplied amidst the satisfied groans and compliments.

“Yeah, well, it’s just different this time! Maybe it’s because we got fresh chicken right now? Can’t blame anyone for boosting your ego now, can you?” Michael said, promptly dipping his fingers straight into his soup to pluck out a piece of chicken and squash, dripping some of the rich broth into his beard.

Ginny laughed heartily at Neville’s sheepish grin in response, then swiped the flagon from their side of the table to wash down the last of her own soup with, giving him a sly wink in return. She pulled her coat back on over her shoulders and clambered up to the deck where Cedric was keeping an eye on their course as he ate.

“Been alright?” she asked him. “Haven’t missed all the chatter and clatter down below deck?”

“Ah it’s fine enough up here, passed a couple ships but nothing concerning. You know I love you all, truly, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes enjoy deck duty during dinner time,” he replied with a quirk of his full brow.

“Oh yeah yeah, we’re so terrible are we? Glad you could finally get a break from us, prat,” Ginny scoffed teasingly as she tucked her hair behind her ears, her hat carefully held against her left side. 

She found herself tapping her fingers against the hilt of her sword, a beautiful cutlass with a gilded handle with red stones and gold she had pilfered when they had held up a ship transporting some lower-level Breton duke of something or other. 

She hadn’t asked too many questions when they had overwhelmed their ship and taken what they could, and just as they were leaving, Ginny noticed the beautiful gleam of the exquisite sword hanging uselessly off the belt of the ferrety-looking duke, trembling in fear of her. 

She had always been drawn to reds and golds and all their warmth, and so she had taken it off his hands just before hopping back on the  _ Godric  _ without giving any of his guards a chance to retaliate. Besides, he certainly hadn’t used it to stop them, it would have been a waste leaving it in his possession.

She felt Cedric looking at her, and noticed a crease forming between his brows. He was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and drumming his fingers in his now empty bowl.

“Well spit it out then, I know you’re itching to tell me something besides how loud and annoying we are in the lower deck.”

He let out his breath slowly, then nervously licked his lips, and began to speak.

“I know you’re dead set on this plan, to get that artifact mentioned in the journal. I know if we pull this off, with that and more, we’ll be set. Set long enough we could take some time to explore and see the world without worrying about how we’ll stock up on supplies or protect ourselves. But I just have a bad feeling about it. Something feels off. I think he was saying whatever it is, that it’s cursed.” 

Ginny pursed her lips, feeling a bit annoyed Cedric hadn’t felt this important enough to mention anytime over the last five and a half days. She could have smoothed this over with him ages ago, he always liked to worry. 

“Ced...listen to yourself. You and I know that there can be good luck and bad luck, but an actual cursed thing? Come on. It’s probably just a secret document between two royal families making underhanded deals, maybe some relic with the Church everyone feels a bit superstitious about. Either way, it’s an adventure for us with a payout at the end. When has that ever worried you so much before?”

“No, you’re not understanding me. I’m telling you, this gives me a bad feeling, the closer we get, the worse it gets—crawls up my spine. I’m telling you, we're walking into something bigger than you’re thinking, I just know it. I know what this is for you, this time of year. I think you’re feeling more reckless because of it.” 

He huffed out another breath, clearly nervous to be talking to Ginny about this, in this forthright tone, but he continued.

“I think you’re okay with this risk because if it goes well you can say it was all worth it and give us the time and leisure to go where we wish for the next season, but if it goes bad, you get pulled into more adventure and have another excuse to put off going back to Cornwall, like your brother asked last year! So, let me ask you this: is this job worth all our whiles, or just yours?” He preemptively turned away and looked down at his boots, digging his toe into the oak planks.

Ginny stiffened and felt her shoulders and lower back tighten as she made herself taller, broader. “You don’t know a damn thing about if I want to go back there or not, and you don’t know a damn thing about this artifact or job besides this supposed ‘gut feeling.’ We’re doing it because I said so, because I  _ know _ what this team needs. I have our best interests in mind, all of us!” Her cheeks felt hot as she said so.

“I don’t think you don’t think of all of us, I think you are clouded by ambition and a desire for an excuse to pursue adventure and prove your bravery. But I am telling you, the closer we get, the worse this looks. We are _docking_ the ship in one of the biggest port cities with some of the highest security and royal presence in the Mediterranean, all for this loot you _asked me_ to read about and I am telling you the way this guy wrote, I have a bad feeling.” Cedric replied, the crease deepening between his eyebrows and his mouth sinking further into a frown.

Ginny felt her cheeks get hotter and redder as she snapped back “I am not just risking our safety for the hell of it, this is going to establish our reputation and put us in a position not just to use and sell whatever else we get, but to bargain for anything we want any other time to get whatever it is back to whoever wants it. That is good for us and I know that! I know how to command this ship and I _know_ how to lead this group!”

Cedric set his mouth fully into the frown, replying back defensively “I never accused you of any such thing! You asked me what I wanted to say, I said it. If you don’t like it, alright you’re right that you’re in charge. I do what you ask and I tell you what I think about what you ask, and this is what I know now, in my gut. You decide, of course, but don’t say I didn’t have a suspicion!” 

He turned away from her, his soft ashy blond hair shifting over his eyes. The sun was setting just beyond him, the black night sky and stars slowly chasing after the fading stripes of purple and orange. Ginny huffed to herself and glared at the horizon, noticing the ships getting larger and the grey and brown specks of buildings getting clearer.

“Well, we’re just about here anyway and we are doing this, _tonight_. Just like we discussed earlier today when you had no cryptic warnings to give. Go get the others, we prepare to dock and wait for nightfall. If you can’t do this anymore, you have about five minutes to figure that shit out.”

Cedric closed his eyes firmly, as if pressing something out of them, then turned and looked at her with a mix of guilt and sadness. Nonetheless, he shook his head, mumbling that it was alright, and headed down to gather the others and get them looking more like well-to-do sailors rather than mangey pirates.

Ginny herself slipped her neatly-folded scarf into her pocket and placed her hat on her head, going about doing up her shirt buttons properly, folding her collar and pressing her coat lapels carefully against her chest and shoulders. She bent down, her anger and defensiveness still singing at the surface of her face as she somewhat aggressively polished her boots.

Now wasn’t the time for this. She had to get ready to chat up the foreman at the docks, get themselves squared away with a good spot, and keep their cover cool. 

She didn’t have time for the inkling of doubt that was spreading across her like strands in a spider’s web, thin but persistent, as she clambered over to the helm to steer them more directly into the port, while Kay and Alicia came up to work the sails to slow their pace and shift their direction. 

Venice was here, and so was the job, whether the crew liked it or not. 

_ And that will be that _ , Ginny thought to herself with as convincing finality she could muster.

It was time to get ready. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes about the characters and references in the chapter:
> 
> Neville is a nonbinary man and uses he/they pronouns. In this fic, I imagine him to be autistic and disabled, using a mobility aid (a cane), and relatively recently disabled from an accident (more to come on that later).
> 
> Cedric is Sámi, an indigenous person from Sápmi, or Northern Scandinavia and parts of Russia. I am imagining him to be from a village of reindeer herders from northern Sweden. A joik is a type of song traditional to Sámi culture, where instead of singing lyrics they sing different notes and vocalizations that capture the essence of something, usually and animal, place or person. A gákti is a traditional embroidered tunic. I was vaguely inspired by Nils-Aslak Valkeapää, a cool Finnish Sámi writer, musician and artist I learned about who was also bisexual (as Cedric is to me). 
> 
> Angelina is Black, I imagine her as from a Luo woman from modern day Kenya or Tanzania. More to come on that later. She is in a relationship with  
> Alicia, who is an Amazigh woman from modern day Morocco. 
> 
> Kay is my version of Katie Bell in this fic, and they are nonbinary and use they/them pronouns. I imagine them as Central Asian, specifically Kazakh. 
> 
> "Del en-vy ow kerdhes un myttyn yn mys me" are the beginning lyrics in Cornish of a folk song, An Awhesyth ("The Lark"), and translates to "The lark in the morning she rises off her nest."
> 
> Michael is Romani, specifically Welsh Kale, which is how he has known Ginny so long, as they met early on when Ginny first left Ottery St. Catchpole. I know there are many words for Roma and Romani people depending on the sub group or region of the diaspora they live in, and Roma may use whatever words they see fit for themselves. I, however as a non-Roma person, will be not tolerating the use of the g-word in any comments from other non-Romani people. A dikhlo is one word for a patterned colorful scarf, typically worn on the head, by Romani women throughout the diaspora.
> 
> He is a gifted musician, and the instrument he is playing in the chapter, the oud, is an 11-stringed instrument that looks a bit like a small guitar or mandolin, that is played in a lot of traditional Somali and SWANA music, particularly Yemeni and other Arab Gulf ethnic groups. I'm a bit of a folk music nerd so there will be some more fun music references. 
> 
> I know Constantinople is called Istanbul now, I'm imagining this as taking place in a fictional golden age of piracy, so roughly 16th-17th century, when it would have been called Constantinople. I also know the guy who they took the logs from has a Turkish name, but Arabic in this era of trade would have been the more common language of commerce so I thought it made sense. Let me know if anything else needs clarification!


End file.
